The Situationship

by Abby Jimenez

I liked hustle. I respected anyone with a good work ethic.

meant he was a good enough friend to buy it, or a good enough friend to be gifted it. No matter which scenario, he was a good enough friend to hang it,

opened the armoire. Was it my business? No. Didn’t care. Women should snoop. Snooping saves lives. Lets you know if you’re in the house of a serial killer or a married man or a guy with a closet full of Sharpies to draw dicks on trails.

“You feel depressed or actual depression?” “Actual depression,” he said, taking a bite. “Have you ever been to therapy?” I asked. “Every week,” he said. “Do you take meds?” “Never missed one dose. Do you always ask such invasive questions?” “Do you always answer them?”

“Are you going to play the guitar for me or not?” “You are so bossy.” “Do you want me to leave?” “Not even a little.” He grinned.

“I have to warn you that if I don’t like your playing, you will see it on my face. That’s just how my face works.”